Project: Arkham
by Jen Rock
Summary: A scientist uses the Arkham inmates as guinea pigs in his sinister experiment.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Project: Arkham, part 1.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters belong to DC and Warner Brothers except Dr. Fredericks and no one probably wants to use him anyway.  
  
Notes: I wrote this to explain the difference in some of the Rogue's appearance between "Batman: The Animated Series," and "The New Batman Adventures." I tend to switch freely between the characters real names and their criminal aliases so I hope it won't be too confusing. Also, the poetry included at the beginning of each chapter is meant to complement the story as in a song-fic. Enjoy.  
  
******************  
  
"Much Madness is divinest Sense  
  
To a discerning Eye  
  
Much Sense-the starkest Madness  
  
'Tis the Majority  
  
In this, as All, prevail  
  
Assent-and you are sane  
  
Demur-you're straightway dangerous  
  
And handled with a chain."  
  
Emily Dickinson  
  
*****  
  
Jeremiah Arkham regarded the gray-haired man sitting across from him with a skeptical glare. Dr. Wilhelm Fredericks, the latest psychiatrist to show up at Arkham with a "sure-fire" cure for it's inhabitants, reacted to the glare by smiling wider and pushing his papers across the desk to Arkham. He was a medium-sized man in his early 60's who appeared perfectly normal and congenial but there was something about him that Arkham found irritating. He'd developed a certain sixth-sense about others in his years working at Arkham and this man was setting it off. The man's credentials were impressive and verified but some of the best psychiatrists in the world had passed through the asylum's front doors confident they had some miracle treatment only to leave in abject failure.  
  
"I realize you must be skeptical about my claims, Mr. Arkham, but if you'll just look at my past studies, you should see that I've had several successes in treating severely mentally ill individuals." Fredericks smoothly accented remark was spoken in a very condescending manner but Arkham took the papers anyway. The man might be irritating but if there was any chance he could succeed, then he would be given that chance. Jeremiah Arkham sincerely wanted to help his charges and it had been this sincerity that had led to problems in the past. He didn't want another Harley Quinn or Lyle Bolton on his conscience just because he was so desperate for success that he let someone get away with too much.  
  
To his surprise, the papers were very well-done and thorough. They had been published in Fredericks native Germany in a number of prestigious medical journals. Everything appeared in order and according to the articles, Fredericks had if not always cured, at least grounded the manias of many mentally ill patients through an experimental treatment involving drugs and physical therapy. It all sounded plausible enough to Arkham. Maybe he'd been wrong about Fredericks. Just because the man was arrogant didn't mean he was incompetent.  
  
"This is all very impressive Dr. Fredericks, but what exactly do you plan to do at Arkham? You've treated passive patients who were only a danger to themselves but here we specialize in dangerous and homicidal inmates who you wouldn't be allowed to interact with in the same way as your previous treatments. I need to know exactly what you plan before I can give my assent."  
  
"I understand the difficulties inherent in working at Arkham but my plan is to start off with a small group of inmates. If the therapy shows signs of working I can expand the number but all I would require at first is to place this group of selected inmates in a secluded area where I can work with them on a daily basis without outside influences and a small contingent of guards to stand by in case anything goes wrong. You would be free to monitor my progress or halt it at any time, of course. I just want to help these poor people get better."  
  
Arkham tried not to roll his eyes at the man's earnest expression but he couldn't see anything wrong with the plan. There was a secluded medical wing that could be converted for Fredericks use and if Arkham didn't like any part of it, he could shut it down. If it worked as well as the articles suggested, Fredericks might very well be able to help some of the inmates.  
  
"I'm inclined to say yes but first I want to know who you plan to include in your initial group. I simply can't allow you access to someone like the Joker who is an expert at manipulating his doctors. Nor can I allow you any of the Class 3 inmates such as Killer Croc and Blockbuster who are too dangerous for you to handle freely."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of starting with such inmates. I took the liberty of making a list. I think five would be a good number to start with and these would be the ones I think would respond best to my treatment."  
  
Arkham took the offered piece of paper and read the list of names silently. They were all reasonable picks and he could see no reason to refute them so sighing gently, he handed the paper back and nodded to a delighted Fredericks.  
  
"Very well Dr. Fredericks, you can begin your treatments as soon as possible."  
  
*****  
  
One week later..  
  
Edward Nygma sat down at the computer in the lounge with a feeling of anticipation. The techs had installed a bunch of new games on the computers including several puzzle and word games a few days ago and he was having fun playing them, especially the progressive ones. His high scores were already unbeatable by anyone else at Arkham but he could still try and beat them himself. There were several computers, none of which were occupied as he sat down. The inmates weren't allowed Internet access except under supervision because of the possibilities for contacting others to assist them in an escape but there were plenty of games to keep them amused.  
  
There was barely anyone in the lounge except Killer Croc who was watching some nature show on TV and the Mad Hatter sitting quietly in a corner with his nose in a book as usual. That was good because Riddler hated it when it was crowded or noisy which it usually was when Joker was around. The clown didn't care who he upset as long as he was having fun and his idea of fun usually involved other people getting hurt or embarrassed. Content that he would be undisturbed, he launched into a marathon of gameplay. He was so engrossed in playing that he barely noticed when Scarecrow was led into the lounge. As he unscrambled numerous cryptograms, Jonathon Crane began arguing loudly with Killer Croc.  
  
"But I insist you change the channel! The 'X-Files' is coming on and they're showing my favorite episode, 'Blood.'"  
  
"No way. This is a brand-new episode of 'Croc Hunter,' and I ain't missin' it for somethin' you already seen a hundred times."  
  
"Oh please, what is your fascination with watching that dim-witted Australian wrestle your slightly-more advanced cousins?"  
  
"I'm studyin' his moves so if he ever comes after me, I can take him down. Now quit yer whinin' or got lost."  
  
"Why you overgrown handbag, I'll..."  
  
The argument continued behind him as the guards kept an eye on the two but Nygma wasn't listening. He'd just passed his previous high score and was well on his way to a new record when a new group of guards walked in. They walked over to the commanding officer and whispered something to him. He looked bored as he waved a hand at them in agreement.  
  
"Nygma, Crane, Tetch. The three of you are going with these men. On your feet now." Tetch looked up from his book in confusion and Crane tensed as the guards came to handcuff him in preparation for the move but Nygma was so intent on his game that he didn't even hear the guard until he was hauled to his feet and the computer turned off which meant his high score was now lost.  
  
"What the hell...? I just got here and you made me lose." He glared at the burly guard who was obviously not impressed as he twisted Riddler's arms behind him and attached the cuffs. Crane began protesting as well.  
  
"This is unacceptable! I'm owed an hour of lounge time and I don't see  
  
why I should..." The other guard shoved him towards the door cutting him off as he stumbled and almost fell. He glared at the guard but offered no further resistance as he was led along with a fuming Nygma and a seemingly, unconcerned Tetch.   
  
Nygma's mind worked frantically as the guards led them to an unfamiliar section of Arkham. He didn't recognize any of the guards but that was hardly surprising. The turnover rate for staff at Arkham was quite high. But something about this whole situation made him uneasy. He didn't know where they were going or why and he didn't like questions unless he was the one asking them. He glanced over at Crane and the lanky man rolled his eyes and mouthed "2's," at him. Riddler bit back his snort of laughter.  
  
He and Crane sometimes had discussions about various topics. Scarecrow was quite intelligent although his intellect couldn't compare to Nygma's but it was still enough to hold his own in a conversation. They had once got into a talk about the staff at Arkham and Crane had explained his theory about the three types that worked here. Type 1's were ingratiatingly helpful and cheerful. They acted as though they were the inmate's best friend and for this reason they never lasted long. Harleen Quinzel had been a Type 1 and look where it had gotten her. Type 2's were overly aggressive, even bullying as they tried to intimidate the inmates with their bluster. They tended to be large, over-muscled men like the guards currently dragging them towards their unknown destination. Lyle Bolton had been an extreme Type 2 but bluster usually didn't work well on inmates who faced the Bat on a regular basis. Type 3's were passive, remote and uncaring. They treated the inmates like pieces of meat and didn't let anything get to them. They lasted longer than the other two.  
  
They were led to a remote wing that looked newly renovated. The guards paused at a door and one of them unlocked it with a key. The three inmates were roughly shoved through the open door to a snarl of anger from Crane who hated being pushed around. They were in a large, well-lit laboratory with five hospital beds and various medical equipment placed around the perimeter. In the center were six chairs, five in a row with one facing the others. Two of the chairs were already occupied by an irritated Pamela Isley, aka Poison Ivy and a nervous Arnold Wesker, the Ventriloquist. The opposite chair was occupied by a tall, calm, gray-haired man wearing a lab coat. He got to his feet and greeted them with a wide smile.  
  
"Will we join the dance?" Tetch asked rhetorically as they were forced into the three remaining chairs and strapped down at the wrists and ankles. This was unusual as most medical or psych sessions only required handcuffs. Something different was happening here and Riddler couldn't figure it out. Group therapy usually didn't work well at Arkham and this seemed like an awful lot of preparation just for a psychiatric session.  
  
The unfamiliar doctor smiled wider at their obvious confusion. Scarecrow and Poison Ivy were glaring at him. Ventriloquist was huddled in his chair, quite harmless and lost without Scarface's presence. The Mad Hatter was staring off into space, humming to himself while Riddler simply looked at him narrow-eyed as he contemplated the situation.  
  
"Good afternoon to you all. I'm Dr. Wilhelm Fredericks and I've chosen the five of you to participate in a unique therapeutic endeavor."  
  
"Lucky us." Crane replied sarcastically. Dr. Fredericks inclined his head in Crane's direction.  
  
"Yes, I assumed you would be especially thrilled, Dr. Crane. After all, you can probably best appreciate my efforts. The five of you have been chosen because I think all of you have the best chance of responding to my treatments. When I'm successful, you will be joined by other inmates. And now for the first step..."  
  
Riddler was bored now that the mystery had been resolved so quickly. Fredericks was just another quack that Arkham had allowed to come in and treat the inmates. It had happened many times and they were still all here and those doctors were gone. This doctor had the oozing charms of a motivational speaker but he would be about as successful as the woman who had tried to use toys and stuffed animals as therapy to release their "inner child's." That had lasted until Wesker, in desperate Scarface-withdrawal, had stolen several of them and made new puppets. The resulting chaos, as four new personalities tried to battle for control of Wesker's psyche and the inmates made bets as to which one would win, had ended that doctor's career at Arkham.  
  
Fredericks pulled a supply tray towards them. On it lay five syringes and a bottle of amber-colored liquid. The guards came forward to hold each one of them down as they were injected starting with the Ventriloquist. Tetch and Wesker offered no resistance. Crane struggled a little but he was easily restrained by the guards. Pamela Isley stared icily at the doctor as she was injected but affected outward calm. Nygma shrugged and let himself be injected. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being injected with strange drugs. It was standard activity at Arkham.  
  
The guards stepped back and Fredericks carefully put the supplies away.  
  
He turned around and regarded them again but this time the smile was gone and he was studying the five of them as though waiting for something to happen. Minutes ticked by without the doctor saying anything or moving a muscle other than the way his eyes flicked back and forth between each of them. Nygma felt that stir of unease again. Wesker suddenly sat up straight and looked around him with an air of bewilderment. Fredericks eyes fastened on him.  
  
"What's going on? I can't hear Mr. Scarface anymore. I'm, I'm...alone." Wesker's voice cracked and then he began weeping and shivering in the chair. Ivy was acting up now, shrinking back in the restraints and looking confused.  
  
"Everything's so...dead in here. I'm surrounded by death. Can't get away from it." There was panic in her voice and Crane might have started to gloat if he hadn't started to shake just then. Within seconds he was in the middle of what looked like a seizure, his body slamming against his restraints as he shrieked mindlessly. The guards stood impassively, not moving to help in any way. Tetch hadn't moved at all next to Nygma and after a minute he realized that the Mad Hatter was simply frozen, staring at something only he could see. He was whispering something repeatedly and Nygma strained to hear before finally making out, "off with his head, off with his head, off with..."  
  
"What did you do to them?" The Riddler demanded, sweat starting to trickle down his back as he wondered when he was going to start acting like them.  
  
"The drug affects everyone differently, Mr. Nygma. It works on each person's unique brain chemistry and certainly the inmates here have VERY unique brains. But rest assured, just because the effects haven't happened for you yet doesn't mean that they won't. It's only a matter of time."  
  
Nygma's mind worked frantically trying to figure a way out without success and then suddenly everything was too frantic. Light seemed to explode in brilliant colors in front of his eyes. His mind was bombarded with information as though a crowd of people were shouting questions at him. "What is the capital of Mauritania?" "What is the atomic weight of cesium?" "In what year did Edgar Allen Poe die?" He screamed silently trying to block out the noise and only had time to recognize that it was Batman's voice barking the questions at him before everything went mercifully dark. 


	2. Part 2

Project: Arkham, Part 2.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.   
  
******************  
  
"My Brain began to laugh  
  
I mumbled-like a fool  
  
And tho' 'tis Years ago-that Day  
  
My Brain keeps giggling-still  
  
And Something's odd-within  
  
That Person that I was  
  
And this One-do not feel the same  
  
Could it be Madness-this?"  
  
Emily Dickinson  
  
******************  
  
The Riddler felt as though he were floating in blackness for a long time. There were odd sparks of colors and shapes in front of his eyes and he felt like he was stuck in a giant kaleidoscope of some sort. But gradually, the darkness faded and he became aware of himself again. He was lying in a dimly-lit room but there was enough light to tell that he was in an infirmary and that there was someone standing in the corner watching him. His initial movements made him slightly dizzy and also proved that he was shackled to the bed. He was trying to see who was in the room with him and was still too confused to trust himself to speak clearly but then the figure moved towards him, sparing him from moving further. He squinted in the darkness as the person approached until he resolved himself as Dr. Fredericks.  
  
"Good, you're awake Mr. Nygma. It's been more than a day and I was beginning to worry but you seem to be responding to the treatment as expected." It took several minutes for Riddler's fogged brain to process the words but then he remembered where he was and what had happened. He'd been moved from the chair to one of the hospital beds after he'd blacked out. With great effort, he managed to turn over enough to see the others were also shackled to their beds. The Ventriloquist was staring at the ceiling but he turned to look in Nygma's direction with an odd little smile.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Nygma. Feeling better? I'm feeling much better." Poison Ivy was sleeping on her side. Her skin seemed to have a sickly pallor to it but she was breathing evenly. Scarecrow was awake but he looked like he was heavily drugged as his pupils were dilated when he slowly turned to look at Nygma. His thin face was haggard and drawn and his hands shook against the restraints. The Mad Hatter looked...older somehow. His dark blond hair looked lighter and he seemed to have shrunk a little in stature but he didn't seem to mind as he gave a cheery smile and a little wave in Nygma's direction in the middle of reciting loudly.  
  
"Anon, to sudden silence won  
  
In fancy they pursue  
  
The dream-child moving through a land  
  
Of wonders wild and new...(*)"  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Riddler managed to turn back to Fredericks. His head was clearing rapidly although he still felt physically weak. "What have you done to us?"   
  
"You know, I thought Professor Crane would be the one to fully grasp my genius but he seems to be indisposed so I suppose you can fill in, so to speak, as a captive audience. The drug I injected you with is a unique elixir of my own creation. Simplistically, I guess you can say it magnifies one's basic nature by altering the brain and body at a cellular level. It's really quite remarkable how varied the results are. Mr. Wesker over there has found a new clarity without the distraction of his alternate personalities. Ms. Isley seems to be reacting on a purely physical level but then her physiology was odd even before my experiment. Mr. Tetch also seems to be reacting physically. His mental state is apparently unchanged at present although the experiment is just beginning.  
  
And then there's you and Professor Crane. The two of you are reacting both physically and mentally to the drug. It's really quite exciting. I'm sure you've noticed a change in your thought processes. My guess is that when the process is done in a few days, your own genius will be enhanced and refined. I can't wait to see what effect the drug will have on the mental state of someone like the Joker or the physically mutated Killer Croc but that will have to wait until this initial experiment is over."  
  
The Riddler stared at the man as he struggled not to react. Being in Arkham, he'd heard all sorts of crazy plans, proclamations, and boasts; hell, he'd made plenty of his own. But he'd never heard anything as crazy as someone wanting to make the Joker MORE Joker-like. Although he liked the thought of his mind being enhanced, he definitely hated being drugged and then altered against his will. And what did Fredericks mean by physical changes? And why were the guards standing there watching all of this and not contacting Arkham? His mind was beginning to accelerate again but with a great effort, he cleared his thoughts and the effects subsided. This couldn't be good. Apparently just thinking about questions made the drug work faster. But he was the Riddler! Questions were his 'raison d'etre'. How was he supposed to avoid thinking in questions? And how long before...? He shuddered as it happened again. It felt like machinery buzzing in the back of his skull.  
  
Dr. Fredericks had gone off to talk to one of the guards as Nygma pondered, or tried not to ponder, what he was going to do. Now he returned and the guard followed him over carrying a tray of food. The guard helped him to sit up and the tray was placed in his lap. As the guard bent down with the tray, Nygma noticed the glint of something metallic above his ear, half-hidden by his helmet. It looked familiar somehow but the food smelled delicious and he was trying not to think too hard so he dismissed it and began to eat.  
  
"I knew you'd be hungry, Mr. Nygma. Rich here will take the tray when you're done and escort you to the lavatory. I'll be back shortly." The guard stood at attention by his bed but Riddler ignored him, intent on eating every scrap of the chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables he'd been given. Funny, he'd been nauseous when he first woke up but now he felt ravenous. Maybe it was a side effect of the drug. He gulped the last mouthful and drained the glass of water provided.   
  
The guard took the tray away and then unshackled him from the bed and placed specialized handcuffs, designed just for him, on his wrists. He followed the guard to a small room off to the side. Between the continuing physical weakness and his concentrated effort not to think in questions, making escape plans was not a consideration at the moment and he was not one to resist just for the sake of resisting like Crane so he simply went about his business as the guard turned his back. He was washing his hands when he happened to glance up at the small, plastic-like mirror and suddenly froze in shock.  
  
The reflection staring back at him was that of a very sick man. He looked like he'd lost ten pounds in only a day. He'd always been lean but now he looked almost as skinny as Crane. His face looked thinner and there were dark bags under his eyes. Worse yet, his thick reddish-brown hair seemed to have thinned and he could see the gleam of his scalp through the strands. He looked like someone who was undergoing radiation treatments. If he looked this terrible after only one day, how would he look when the drug's effects had run its course? With a violent cry, he tried to rush the guard in a fit of blind, unthinking panic. The guard was ready for him, of course and wrestled him to the ground with ease. As he was injected again, with a sedative this time, his mind began to drift and he realized what the metallic object behind the guard's ear was. It was one of the Mad Hatter's control chips...  
  
**********  
  
*This is, naturally, a quote from the poem at the beginning of Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." 


	3. Part 3

Project Arkham, part 3  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
"I could not have defined the change  
  
Conversion of the Mind  
  
Like Sanctifying in the Soul  
  
Is Witnessed not explained  
  
'Twas a Divine Insanity  
  
The Danger to be Sane."  
  
Emily Dickinson  
  
****************  
  
Edward Nygma thought he might be dreaming. Surely the events of the past two weeks were just some weird concoction of his fevered brain. He was probably in a coma in Arkham's infirmary after a particular bad encounter with Batman. That had to be it. It would have been easier to believe that his transformation and those of his fellow Rogues were just the result of some brain damage from a beating if it wasn't for Fredericks continued and increasingly erratic presence. The Arkham psychiatrist was so thrilled with the continuing results of his experiments that he needed to share his excitement with someone and Nygma was his designated sounding board.   
  
There really wasn't anyone else. Riddler now knew that Jeremiah Arkham and the rest of the staff at the asylum were under Fredericks control. He'd stolen a sizable number of the Mad Hatter's control chips from storage and managed to slip one onto everyone who might oppose him. The inmates who were being used in his experiments were being altered so much that many of them couldn't have stated their own name let alone understood Dr. Fredericks "master plan." So Riddler was the one he spoke to every day detailing the ups and downs of his experiment. It had now been expanded to far more than the original five patients. The other four had completed their transformations but Nygma still felt physically weak. His mind was definitely sharper now. He'd already come up with several riddle-crimes that he felt sure Batman wouldn't be able to solve. He was also smart enough to feign being weaker than he actually was but he knew he was in no shape to fight back yet. It annoyed Fredericks that he couldn't figure out why Nygma was still having side effects. Blood tests had confirmed that the drug was out of his system but still he kept having bouts of dizziness and naseau.   
  
Nygma was still in the original infirmary after the others had been brought back to their cells so that he could listen to Fredericks rant every night. He'd lost quite a bit of weight and was quite thin and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to be permanent. But far worse to him was the loss of his hair. He'd always been somewhat vain and proud of his appearance and his bald scalp was still horrifying but privately he had to admit it seemed to make him look smarter. Fredericks entered with a smile as Nygma sat, contemplating his current situation.   
  
"Good evening, Mr. Nygma. How are you feeling today?"  
  
"Pretty much the same." He replied curtly, not willing to engage in conversation any more than he had to. It usually didn't matter as Fredericks did enough talking for both of them but today was different.  
  
"That's too bad. I was going to ask you if you felt well enough to take your dinner in the cafeteria with your fellow Rogues today. After all, you should be able to see the fruits of my labors rather than just hearing about them." Nygma stared at him as his mind worked frantically to guess what this could mean. The "good" doctor, for all his charming manner, liked to play little games with his subjects. Could this be a trick of some kind? Did he suspect that Nygma was faking much of his weakness? Questions again. His mind was full of them but it would be nice to get out of this boring room.  
  
"I think I could manage one meal, doctor." Fredericks beamed as though Nygma were a favored pupil who had just given the perfect answer.  
  
"Splendid! We'll leave right now." The blank-faced guards helped Nygma to his feet. He had a touch of dizziness and then it passed. The guards escorted him out, still handcuffed but without the leg irons he'd worn in the infirmary, while the doctor led the way. There were other Arkham staff in the hallways all with the same blank look. Those that didn't normally wear hats as part of their uniform had been outfitted with innocuous baseball caps or similar headgear to hide the control chips from any visitors. There weren't many outside of delivery men. The Bat had no reason to come here if he didn't think anything was wrong although the fact that no inmate had escaped in two weeks when normally there were at least attempts every other day should have aroused suspicion. Riddler shuddered as he realized he was actually hoping that Batman would show up and rescue them. That was how low his spirits were that he would even think to rely on his archenemy to rescue him.  
  
Fredericks opened the door to the cafeteria and the guards guided Nygma to an isolated table. They propelled him so quickly he didn't have time to look around until they had sat him down and cuffed him to the chair and then he surveyed the room. Most of the Rogues were there eating dinner. The usual babble of arguments, threats, and random shrieks was present but muted to a low level. Poison Ivy sat at a table with Harley Quinn who kept staring at her skin which was now as white as the Joker's but softer and with a slight greenish tone. Joker was more of a corpse-white while Ivy's skin reminded Nygma of a flower's petals. The Joker himself sat isolated, under guard. Fredericks was fascinated and frustrated by the fact that the drug had apparently no effect on either the physical or mental state of the Joker. He was considering upping the dose to see if that would produce any change. For now, the Joker stayed the same grinning, insane clown that Nygma loathed. As if sensing his thoughts, Joker winked at him and blew kisses at Fredericks turned back.  
  
Scarecrow was at a nearby table by himself. His new appearance was creeping out even long-time, jaded inmates and most gave him a wide berth. Crane appeared larger now although he retained some of his thinness. Muscles corded under his white skin like worms. If Joker just had the complexion of a corpse, Scarecrow looked a lot like one. Not only was his skin white, but the flesh had pulled tight on his skull. His teeth seemed to show even through his closed mouth and his eyes were sunken in and seemed to glow in the pits of their sockets. His hair hung in lank strands from his head and oddly enough his voice had changed. Before it had been somewhat shrill and higher pitched and now as he noticed Nygma and said a brief word of greeting, his voice was lower and flat-toned. He had become a thing of fearsome appearance as his outer self changed to match his inner self.  
  
The Ventriloquist was nowhere in sight but according to Fredericks, he had seemingly lost his other personalities permanently and was working to rehabilitate himself. The Mad Hatter's mental state was unchanged but he'd changed somewhat physically. His hair had turned white and he seemed smaller and thinner as he sat at one of the tables talking away to whoever was around and periodically demanding that everyone change a seat which was ignored as usual. Nearby sat Killer Croc who had changed rather radically after being dosed with Fredericks experimental drug. His skin which had been a sort of pale gray-green and rough, was now a dark green and was smooth and scaled more like a lizards. He had bulked up and was now even larger than before. His mind was sharper, although that wasn't saying much for Croc, and his voice was deeper and more of a growl.  
  
Not all of the inmates were involved in the experiments. Fredericks had yet to dose some of the Rogues like Two-Face because he wanted to monitor each transformation personally and his experiments with Joker and Riddler were not yet concluded to his satisfaction. He also considered some of the minor inmates such as Harley to be beneath his attention and had no intention of including them in his study.   
  
Fredericks sat at the table with Nygma chatting away as the servers deposited their meals in front of them. He felt uncomfortable to be sharing a table with the doctor. It wouldn't do to have his fellow Rogues think he was collaborating with Fredericks but he couldn't tell the man to leave so he ate in silence. Their meal was nearly done and he was dreading being returned to the lab when Rich, the head guard approached.  
  
"Sir, there's a delivery van at the front gate. What should I do?"  
  
"I'll handle it. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Nygma, I'll be back soon. Watch him." Fredericks swept out of the cafeteria and Rich took up position next to the table. As soon as the doctor had left, Scarecrow got up and came to sit down at Nygma's table. Rich didn't move or say anything because he hadn't been instructed to do anything about the other inmates.  
  
"Hello Eddie, you look terrible." Crane sounded more amused than sympathetic although his new voice was so flat that it was difficult to tell. He was apparently much more calm and collected in contrast to his previous high-strung manner.  
  
"You're one to talk." Nygma really wasn't in the mood for company. "I suppose you're happy with your new look?"  
  
"I wasn't at first but once I realized the potential, everything became much clearer. I have become a true avatar of Fear, a creature whose very appearance engenders terror in others." Crane sighed in ecstasy at the thought. "Once I get out of this place, I shall embark on a reign of fear that make my previous crimes pale in comparison."  
  
Scarecrow would likely have raved more about fear if the Mad Hatter hadn't plopped down in the seat next to him, cutting him off as he took a breath to continue. Tetch grinned genially at them and held up his empty plastic mug  
  
"Do you have any tea? I seem to have finished mine."   
  
"You never had any to begin with. They never serve tea here, remember?" Eddie was in no mood to humor Tetch's little fantasies. He had to think of some way to get out of Arkham and it would be much easier in here rather than the infirmary. He didn't know how long it would be before Fredericks came back and he couldn't be distracted by inane prattle. Tetch didn't seem to care about Nygma's cold tone and began chatting to himself about having tea with bread and butter and wondering what sort of jam might be provided. Crane sat there silently watching Nygma who was beginning to turn red in frustration. Riddler glanced at Rich to see if he was going to do anything about the Mad Hatter and Scarecrow sharing his table but the guard just stared straight ahead and then Nygma got a sudden idea. Plastering a fake smile on his face, he leaned forward and cut Jervis off in mid-sentence.  
  
"How are you feeling, Hatter?" Jervis looked startled at this question.   
  
"Why, I feel just frabjous."  
  
"So you don't mind the things that Dr. Fredericks has been doing to you?"  
  
"No. Only there was no time for tea during the whole thing, you see? That was dreadful but   
  
now it's past." Riddler grinned slyly.  
  
"Oh, so you don't mind that Fredericks stole your property and is using it for his own gain?" Jervis looked quite puzzled and then turned to look at Rich as Riddler gestured in his direction. For a moment, he didn't seem to realize what Riddler was talking about and then the sight of the control chip registered fully in his befuddled mind and his eyes went wide. Slowly he got to his feet, trembling with so much anger he could barely speak.  
  
"My chips! Mine! He...stole them...I...OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" Jervis took his empty cup from the table and flung it quite hard at Rich who didn't even flinch as it it smashed past his head but as if this was a signal that awakened the other inmates, suddenly everyone was yelling and throwing chairs, trays, and food. The guards reacted since they'd been told to keep the inmates in line but they were outnumbered and slowed by their lack of independent thought. As Killer Croc tried to tear up one of the tables which was bolted to the floor to prevent such an action, and most of the guards converged on him, Riddler saw his chance. He picked up the heavy chair he was still handcuffed to and edged towards the kitchen doors.   
  
As he reached them, Fredericks came running in followed by a large number of guards but the psychiatrist was too busy trying to quell the riot to notice Nygma. Jervis was standing on the table screaming in fury and Crane was egging him on in his whispery voice. Harley was flinging mashed potatoes with glee before a guard tackled her only to be smashed over the head with Poison Ivy's tray. She was yelling something but he couldn't hear it over the chaos of rampaging inmates. It could have been about Harley or it could have been anger over the senseless waste of the peas that were now spilled all over the floor. He had to get out of here before he was noticed and he quickly slipped through the heavy kitchen doors. His last sight of the cafeteria gave him a glimpse of the Joker juggling apples and then flinging them like baseballs at Fredericks who fell back with a curse.  
  
The kitchen staff were all chipped and only stared at him cow-like as he lugged the heavy chair through the kitchen. He managed to work the cuff off his wrist by the time he reached the far side of the room and then had to lean against the wall as a wave of naseau and dizziness hit. As soon as it passed, he pushed open the door and emerged in a long hallway that ended in a large garage where supply trucks came to bring in the kitchen stock. If Fredericks hadn't been so careless, this route would have been locked and guarded as it normally was but the doctor was confident that the inmates were under his control and had put most of the guards at the front gates to watch for unexpected visitors.  
  
There was no one to stop him as he reached the garage. There were two small trucks there for the use of the staff in emergencies and it was short order to hotwire one and then hit the button to open the outside door. Nygma drove the truck out and headed up a back road behind Arkham knowing the front was being watched. The service road led out to the edge of the asylum and soon Nygma was headed towards Gotham without looking back. 


	4. Part 4

Project: Arkham, part 4.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
"His mind of man a secret makes  
  
I meet him with a start  
  
He carries a circumference  
  
In which I have no part  
  
Or even if I deem I do  
  
He otherwise may know  
  
Impregnate to inquests  
  
However neighborly."  
  
Emily Dickinson  
  
Edward Nygma sat fuming behind the wheel of the stolen truck as he glared at the gridlock of cars around him. He had to get to a safe place so he could ditch the truck. It was too easily identified but he'd hit rush hour traffic in downtown Gotham and was now almost at a standstill. Like most of the Rogues, he had several hideouts scattered throughout the city in various abandoned buildings, out-of-the-way dives, and a few discreet furnished apartments paid for monthly through automatic bank transfers. His first thought had been to head for one of those so he could plan his next move in comfort but now he was having second thoughts. Perhaps one of the more run-down, isolated hideouts would be easier to reach.  
  
As traffic began moving again, he prepared to turn left down a street that would lead him towards the docks when he heard startled conversation from the pedestrians. Looking up at their pointing fingers, he cringed at the sight of the Bat-signal reflected on the clouds. Slouching a little lower in the seat, he pulled his cap down to shade his face. He'd found it crumpled up in the glove compartment but he was still wearing the gray, regulation Arkham jumpsuit and would be conspicuous outside of the truck. Could Fredericks have called Commissioner Gordon about his escape so soon? He'd thought that Fredericks wouldn't draw attention to the situation at Arkham by publicizing his escape but maybe he'd been wrong. Of course, it was possible that Batman was being called about something else. Riddler certainly wasn't the only criminal in Gotham but he didn't really believe in coincidences which made it all the more urgent that he get rid of this truck.  
  
It seemed to take forever to reach the shipping lanes but gradually as he got away from the main streets, the traffic thinned and he made better time. Every noise and shifting shadow made him jump a little but nothing happened by the time he left the truck parked in a back alley with the keys still in it and carefully made his way three blocks to his hideout. It was above a storage facility owned by Mr. Connor Drum, which was simply one of his many aliases, at the corner of Archer and Fish St. There was no sign that anyone had been there since he'd last visited months ago. Still, he was cautious as he punched the code into the keypad and then entered the building. The downstairs contained extra costumes and supplies and he shucked the gray jumpsuit for a green one with a single large question mark on the front. It was the only thing that would fit his thinner frame. He traded the cap for a purple bowler and grabbed one of his trick canes.   
  
Upstairs was a normal-looking office which actually contained all sorts of hidden security measures that he deactivated before plopping himself down in the green office chair. He turned on the T.V. to see if there was any news about the Bat-signal's purpose. But there was nothing about his escape or anything that would warrant Batman's attention anywhere on the local stations. That could mean that Gordon and the Bat were trying to keep things quiet or it could mean that they didn't know about his escape and the signal HAD been about something else. He just didn't know and he'd always hated being unsure.   
  
When he'd fled Arkham, Riddler's main thought had been to get away from Fredericks and his experiments but now he knew there was more to it. Fredericks wouldn't let him get away so easily. If the psychiatrist hadn't contacted Gordon, he'd definately send some of his own men out to retrieve Nygma. It wasn't safe to merely lay low. The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could leave town until this had all blown over and Fredericks was dealt with or he could take matters into his own hands and tip Batman off. The first option was tempting. Batman wasn't stupid and sooner or later he'd figure out that something was rotten at Arkham and go to investigate. Of course, he'd be unprepared to face not only the entire,controlled staff at Arkham but the changed supervillians as well and there was a slight chance he'd fail. That would be both good and bad from Nygma's POV. On the other hand, tipping Batman off would mean he'd be helping a sworn enemy even if it was against a different sort of enemy. Decisions, decisions, maybe he should take a cue from Two-Face and just flip a coin.  
  
He finally decided that tipping Batman off in the form of a riddle was the best course of action. That way he could try out one of his riddles out and take care of Fredericks at the same time. He spent nearly an hour working out the riddle on a piece of scrap paper. He wanted Batman to go to Arkham to investigate without tipping him off as to what was going on there. Let the Dark Knight puzzle it through for himself. At last the riddle was complete.   
  
It read:  
  
Search high and low for news  
  
Where covenants of swine  
  
Play with the wits  
  
Of knaves and quacks.  
  
Now all he had to do was fax it to police headquarters, sit back, and wait for word of Fredericks arrest and Arkham's liberation...except that he didn't want to wait. His intellect and curiosity were boundless and the thought of waiting on the sidelines hoping for some vague account on the nightly news of what had transpired was too much to bear. The Riddler was the sort of person who had to know what was going on. The only way he could know what was going on was if he had a direct hand in things and for that he would need Batman to come to him. Sighing, he crossed out the first riddle and wrote a similar one:  
  
Search high and low for news  
  
Where Pisces and Sagittarius square off  
  
While covenants of swine  
  
Play with the wits of knaves.  
  
With the push of a button, his message was sent and he spent the next several hours watching laughably easy game shows and eating Chinese food delivered from a nearby eatery known as 'The Happy Fortune Cookie.' It was dark out when his motion-sensitive security cameras were activated by the stealthy approach of a familiar, caped figure. Nygma had activated his security systems again so as not to make it too easy for the Dark Knight but as expected he got through all of them and was now approaching Riddler's darkened office. Nygma leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk as Batman entered carefully.  
  
Riddler flipped the switch that turned on the lights and immediately Batman went into a defensive posture, Batarang-in-hand. He took in the sight of the Riddler simply sitting there waiting for him and the white slits of his eyes narrowed as he digested Nygma's new appearance.  
  
"What do you want, Nygma?" Riddler suppressed a shudder at the sound of the dreaded, deep rumbling voice but he had invited Batman here in a sense and he was determined to be a gracious host. He got to his feet and put his arms behind his back in a military stance.  
  
"I'm surprised you have to ask. I told you what the problem is in my riddle and frankly I expected you here an hour ago. Perhaps you're getting slow in your old age?" There was no response from Batman and after a moment, Riddler shrugged and moved on. "In case you haven't figured it out, my new look wasn't exactly a voluntary choice on my part. There's trouble afoot and I expect you'll want to do something about it."  
  
"Your riddle said there was trouble at Arkham. Care to explain what's going on?" Batman hadn't relaxed in the slightest but he was standing straight now. As Riddler launched into his story about Dr. Fredericks and his Arkham experiments, the Dark Knight's only reaction to the details was a faint grimace at the mention of the Joker and another narrow glare when Riddler told him how the other Rogues had been altered although he left out a few details.  
  
"...And if you think I look bad, wait until you see Scarecrow. So that's everything. I suggest we get to Arkham quickly before 'Dr. Moreau's Island' gets even more twisted."  
  
"I'll go but you're not coming with me. You're going to wait in a cell at police headquarters. I can't trust you and I don't want to have to keep an eye on you while I look into the situation."  
  
"What?! I could have sent you to Arkham on your own but I didn't. I deserve to be there. I HAVE to be there. I have unfinished business with..." His rant was cut off as particularly bad wave of nausea and dizziness hit him. He clutched the back of the chair as his knees buckled and closed his eyes as he chanted silently to himself, 'I will not throw up in front of Batman. I will not throw up in front of Batman.' A gloved hand closed over his arm and he opened his eyes to see Batman with a needle in one hand.  
  
"I'll need a sample of your blood to see what this Fredericks did to you and why you're still having reactions."  
  
"Not unless you agree to take me with you."  
  
"No deal." Batman said flatly and Batcuffed Riddler to the chair before he could react. He ignored Nygma's protests as he rolled up a green sleeve and swabbed the crook of the Rogue's elbow. Nygma was too weak to fight back so he sulked in silence as Batman took the sample and dropped the vial of blood into a compartment on his belt. It seemed like all he'd been doing for the past two weeks was putting up with being stuck with needles by someone he detested. Batman uncuffed him and pulled him to his feet.  
  
"You're making a mistake. You're going to need my help or do you think you can take on the whole staff of Arkham and a bunch of souped-up supervillians at the same time?"   
  
"I'll manage." Batman started to drag Riddler towards the door when suddenly the security cameras came on again and on the multiple screens that showed the perimeter of the building, they saw numerous armed men surrounding the building. Riddler recognized many of them as Arkham guards with Rich leading the charge but some looked like local gang members. All of them had metallic chips glinting from behind their ears. Riddler was shocked. He hadn't expected Fredericks to find him this quickly. Could the psychiatrist have figured out the riddle or was he tracking Nygma some other way?  
  
"Is there another way out?"  
  
"The door over there leads to the roof but we'd be sitting ducks up there."  
  
"Come on." He was forced to stumble along behind Batman as the Dark Knight kept a tight grip on his arm and having his hands still cuffed made it difficult for him to keep his balance. As they reached the door, there was a bang from below and a quick glance at the monitors showed him that the guards had smashed in the front door and were heading for the stairs. Then he followed Batman up the narrow stairs to the roof as the sound of pounding feet became audible.   
  
On the roof, they were quickly caught in the glare of a spotlight. Nygma had to wonder how Fredericks had arranged all of this. Surely the police would notice all of this commotion unless they were being controlled too or distracted somewhere else. His mind spun a hundred different scenarios to explain what was going on but the truth was, he simply didn't know. An amplified voice was ordering them to surrender and someone was pounding on the closed door to the roof which Batman had sealed with some sort of fast-acting incendiery device. Nygma would have been fascinated by the technology under normal circumstances but now he all he could do was crouch behind a metal exhaust pipe which offered little cover as shots began to ring out. 'I can't die here. I'm too smart to die,' he thought frantically. Batman seemed eerily calm as he took another electronic device out of his belt and activated it.   
  
In a few minutes, there was a whirring hum above them as the Batplane descended towards the roof. The guards stepped up their shooting but the plane blocked their aim as it hovered just above the roof and the canopy opened. Batman didn't have to urge Nygma towards it, he ran of his own accord and scrambled into the passenger side joined a moment later by the Dark Knight. The canopy closed and they ascended skyward, leaving the gunfire behind. They rose until they were above the clouds and then Batman put the plane on autopilot and turned to Nygma.  
  
"Do you have any idea how they found you so quickly?"  
  
"No idea. Maybe Fredericks deciphered my riddle somehow or he tagged me with some sort of tracking device." Batman frowned and then punched a command into the plane's keyboard. There was a faint hum and several lights blinked rapidly.   
  
"You're clean. My sensors aren't detecting any radio or other signals coming from you.   
  
I need to analyze your blood sample and since it wouldn't be safe to leave you at police headquarters with Fredericks men hunting you, you'll have to come with me." Batman removed a cannister fitted with an oxygen mask from a panel to the side of him. "Put this on."  
  
"What? Why should I comply?"  
  
"If you'd prefer another injection, I can accomadate you but this way is easier." The Dark Knight obviously wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer and Nygma WAS sick of being sedated with injections so sighing, he took the cannister and fitted the mask over his face. Batman turned the nozzle and as the gas began hissing, the sleek black plane began to fly again. Nygma had the sensation of floating as the gas took effect and then he slipped into darkness.  
  
Riddler awoke gradually, becoming aware of his surroundings or at least as much as he could while blindfolded. He was seated in what felt like a padded chair with his hands cuffed to the arms. There was a faint rustling sound from nearby that could have been Batman's cape or something else and the faint hum of machinery. The air felt cool and he had the sense of space around him. As he shifted to a more comfortable position, footsteps approached him and he tensed. The sound seemed to echo which confirmed his feeling of being in a large open space. He must be in the famous Batcave. He managed not to jump when Batman spoke right in front of him.  
  
"I've analyzed your blood sample, Nygma. I found traces of an unknown chemical compound that appears to have mutagenic properties. I'm going to need time to analyze it further but I also found something else. You've been repeatedly dosed with small amounts of Arinex and that's what's been causing your bouts of sickness."  
  
"What?! You mean Fredericks did this deliberately?" Nygma was stunned. Arinex was an experimental drug being studied as an alternative to chemotherapy for cancer patients. Nygma had read about in several recent newspaper articles but as far as he knew it wasn't widely available.   
  
"Dr. Wilhelm Fredericks has a brother who worked as an assistant on one of the clinical trials. I assume that's how he obtained some of the drug. The question is why was he giving it to you?"  
  
"I don't know. I guess we'll have to ask him when we go to Arkham." There was silence and Nygma suppressed the urge to snarl in frustration. "We are going to Arkham, aren't we?"  
  
In response, Batman uncuffed him and hauled him to his feet.  
  
"I can't leave you here and police headquarters is still uncertain so yes, we're going to Arkham."  
  
A/N: Obviously Arinex is fictional. Sorry I took so long with this chapter but I was having all kinds of computer problems. 


	5. Part 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"It beckons and it baffles

Philosophy don't know

And through a Riddle, at the last

Sagacity must go

To guess it, puzzles scholars

To gain it, Men have borne

Contempt of Generations

And Crucifixion shown."

Emily Dickinson

Normally, Edward Nygma would have been interested in finding out as much as he could about the Batcave. It was Batman's base of operations and a big piece of the puzzle in figuring out the 'who' and 'why' of the Dark Knight. But blindfolded, as he was, there was little he could discover about his surroundings and his mind was on the coming conflict at Arkham. He was impatient to go and silently fumed as Batman moved around the cave, gathering supplies and fiddling with his computer. Or at least that's what Riddler thought he was doing. He himself was seated in the Batplane, secured and still blindfolded, while Batman prepared for the attacks he was certain to face at Arkham.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of boredom, there was a rustle of cloth and Batman's weight settled into the plane. The Dark Knight ignored his passenger and seemed to be getting ready for take-off as Riddler could hear faint clicks and beeps from switches and panels being activated. The engine came to life with a quiet hum and he heard the cockpit close over him.

Nygma was startled when the plane began to move and then there was a faint shudder as they went airborne. He thought that he would be sedated again when they were leaving but that wasn't the case. It proved not to matter much. He had been planning on calculating the distance they traveled from the Batcave to Arkham by judging their speed and the amount of time it took to get there. This would have allowed him to at least figure out a radial distance for the Batcave which might be useful information later but Batman seemed to be flying in circles and was randomly descending and ascending in altitude. Finally, Riddler gave up his surreptitious attempt to riddle out one of Batman's many secrets and merely leaned back and tried to relax.

Shortly after he'd given up, the Batplane began descending again and this time it kept descending which meant they must have reached their destination. Batman reached over and removed Nygma's blindfold. He blinked a little but the cockpit lights were dim and it only took a moment for his eyes to adjust. To his surprise, they were at a small heliport located within sight of Arkham. He'd expected they would land somewhere out of sight and sneak in.

"Were you just planning on walking through the front door? Surely you know there's bound to be a trap."

"I'm counting on it. Fredericks will be put off-balance if I appear to be bringing you back as an escaped prisoner. He won't expect it." As much as Riddler hated to admit it, there was a certain logic to the plan.

"But he must know that I've told you about his experiments. And he'll have to explain why he's greeting you instead of Dr. Arkham or Bartholomew."

"You're a lunatic. Why should I believe anything you say?" Batman's voice had gone so flat and menacing that Riddler had to restrain himself from shrinking back reflexively. "Arkham never comes to meet me. He's averse to my presence because he sees every one of you I return as a failure on his part. And Dr. Bartholomew has a scheduled week of vacation at the moment. Nevertheless, we'll both have to stay sharp in there."

Riddler was startled by the seeming candor but he attributed it to the Dark Knight realizing that Riddler had to have all the pertinent info in order to know how to act. He allowed himself to be helped out of the Batplane and then they were both standing by the Batplane on the opposite side from the Asylum. He took a step to walk towards the building and Batman grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him around.

"One more thing, Nygma. If you help me with this, I'll see to it that your behavior is noted in your favor the next time you're up for parole. But cross me, and you'll be sharing a cell with Joker for the rest of your days." Riddler did shudder this time at the thought but he nodded in understanding.

"I give you my word, Batman. No double-crosses. You can trust me."

"No, I can't." Faster then he would have thought possible, Batman's fist shot out and Nygma was slammed back against the plane's metal skin. He staggered back up and spat blood from a split lip.

"What the #& was that for?"

"You don't want your fellow Rogues thinking you came without a fight, do you?" Riddler could almost have sworn there was a hint of amusement in the man's voice but that was impossible. Glaring at the masked man and wiping blood off his lip, he found himself propelled towards the waiting asylum.

There was no one in sight as they entered the building

and Nygma could feel the tension in Batman's grip on his arm. They headed to the check-in desk and as they reached it, the door leading to the holding cells opened and Dr. Fredericks came through followed by a dozen guards. The doctor had his usual false smile plastered across his face.

"Mr. Nygma, it's so good to see you again. I'm Dr. Wilhelm Fredericks, acting head of the psychiatric ward and I thank you for bringing him in Batman. Mr. Nygma is a very disturbed man. If you'll just hand him over, you can be on your way."

"Riddler IS disturbed but he didn't alter his own appearance. I'll hand him over after I inspect the other inmates and see whether what he's told me is true. I suggest you don't get in my way."

"That is highly irregular, sir. You are not a member of the Arkham staff despite your continuing assistance in recovering inmates, and these areas are restricted." Fredericks kept up the smile as Batman headed towards the holding area door accompanied by Riddler. He motioned to the guards to move aside. "However, if you really need to reassure yourself about the inmates well-being then I won't stand in your way."

Riddler was trying to hide his agitation as he followed Batman into the holding area which led to the various detention cells. He knew Fredericks was planning something but he didn't know what. Did the psychiatrist want them both dead or just Batman? Did he have some reason to let them go in without attacking them in the reception area where he had the advantage of numbers?

Batman opened the door leading to the detention cells and before he could react, a scaly green arm reached through and grabbed him. Batman was pulled through the door and slammed against the nearest wall. He'd expected an attack and fought back as Killer Croc pinned him and began to squeeze but Croc's new size and strength gave him the advantage of surprise. Nygma stayed out of the way in the door as the battle raged. Batman had gotten over the surprise and was now kicking at Croc to loosen his hold on the Dark Knight.

"Don't bother struggling, Batman. I'm the new, improved Killer Croc and you can't beat me no matter how hard you..." Somehow, Batman extracted a capsule from his belt and tossed it into Croc's face. The anesthetic gas enveloped the monster's head and he released his hold on the Dark Knight, clawing at the air before passing out with an audible thud.

The whole fight had lasted barely a minute but Batman was obviously affected as he gasped for breath and held on to his bruised ribs. Nygma glanced behind him to find the guards blocking their retreat and when he looked back towards the cells, inmates were rushing in from all directions.

"Scylla and Charybdis." Riddler muttered and wisely chose to stay out of the way as the inmates rushed Batman. After all, he was a thinker not a fighter and with his hands still cuffed there wasn't much he could do to help. Batman was holding his own, tossing punches and smoke bombs but he was outnumbered and it was obviously just a matter of time before he was overcome.

Then in a sudden move, Batman punched a particularly brawny inmate and sent him sprawling back into the masses which succeeded in momentarily clearing a path towards the door. He'd taken a few steps when a dark shape detached itself from the confused crowd and moved to intercept him. Exhausted and smarting from various wounds, he turned to confront the new menace but wasn't fast enough to avoid the thick wooden staff that connected with his chin. He went down hard and lay still.

Nygma stared at the tall, black-clad figure for a moment before he realized who it was. Under the long, black coat; black, wide-brimmed hat; ratty clothes; and decorative noose was the new Scarecrow. Crane prodded Batman with his staff but the Dark Knight was out cold. He looked up at Nygma, standing in the doorway with a stunned expression, and his lips pulled back in a baleful grin.

"What's the matter Eddie? You look scared." Nygma didn't reply. His attention was on Dr. Fredericks who had come to stand beside him. Several of the inmates were trying to get at Batman's prone body but Scarecrow drove them back with his staff, whacking one fleeing inmate in the rear and then the guards came forward to secure their prisoner. The whole thing had the air of a scene that had been rehearsed before.

"You know, I really must thank you Edward. You delivered the ultimate test subject to me and did it a lot faster than I thought you would." Riddler found his voice finally.

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying you wanted Batman to come here?!"

"Of course. I wanted him as a test subject from the beginning but I needed some way to get him here where I could control everything and ensure his capture. Once I realized that you would be my perfect lure, the plan came together. Your compulsion to tip Batman off with your riddles ensured that he would find out about my plans and come here, preferably with you in tow. Everything worked out exactly the way I wanted it to."

"Then what was the Arinex for?"

"Ah, you know about that. I needed to make you think you were sick so I would have a plausible excuse to keep you in the lab and away from the others while I let them in on the plan. Also, it gave you more motivation to get away from me since you felt threatened by your continuing sickness. I admit, I hadn't thought you would escape by getting Mr. Tetch to start a food fight but what ever works."

"So this whole time you were just using me to get at Batman?"

"Don't take it personally, Mr. Nygma. I had several plans in place to ensure Batman came here at a time of my choosing. If you hadn't been involved, he still would have ended up in this position. Now come along and join your fellow inmates for the experiment."

A guard grabbed Nygma at each elbow and forced him to follow Fredericks. They came to the lab where Fredericks had begun his experiments on him and the others. It was crowded with various Rogues who were all staring at the unconscious Dark Knight who was strapped to a vertically-tilted table across the room. Well, they were all staring except for Joker who had appropriated one of the few chairs and was leaning back pretending to toss non-existent popcorn into his mouth. Nygma was pulled past all of them and seated in the only remaining chair about a foot to the right of Joker. He could hear the hostile mutters from his fellow Rogues behind him. None of them seemed to be directed at him but rather at their nemesis who was so close and helpless while they had to hold back.

Dr. Fredericks took up a position by Batman and pulled a small table over with another of those syringes filled with amber liquid that Riddler remembered from his first visit here. Fredericks picked up the syringe with a flourish and smiled as he addressed his captive audience.

"I am about to inject our guest with this drug which should make him a new man. As you all know, the effects vary with the individual. I wonder how he will react? Will his mind sharpen? Will his body change? Perhaps he'll mutate into some sort of Man-Bat."

"It's been done." Two-Face commented from the back of the crowd. Fredericks looked briefly annoyed and then decided to ignore the interruption and went on.

"Once the experiment is over, all of you will be free to do whatever you like to him, per our agreement. Until then, enjoy the show."

Fredericks turned to Batman who had now regained consciousness and was glaring at the doctor. He moved slightly, testing his bonds but his utility belt had been removed and there was no way to break the thick straps.

"You don't really think they're going to let you live Fredericks? Not after the way you turned them into test subjects."

"They all understand why I did what I did. And the drug has helped a few of them improve such as Mr. Wesker. It can help many more as well once I've perfected it and figured out how to prevent the side effects but I needed to know how it would react on the most extreme cases." The doctor sounded offended that anyone would doubt his plans and seemed to not care that the Rogues were listening.

"So that's it. You used them as guinea pigs for a dangerous drug without knowing what side effects it might have and now you want to do the same to me." Batman's voice raised slightly as he addressed the Rogues who were starting to look uneasy. "Do all of you really want to take a chance that I might end up, 'new and improved' as well? And are you going to let him get away with experimenting on you?"

"He's trying to distract you. Just inject him already." Scarecrow stepped forward, the staff held at the ready as he gestured towards the doctor. Several of the Rogues were muttering uncertainly, especially at the thought of a possibly stronger, faster, smarter Batman than the one who currently defeated them on a regular basis. Joker was still the only one who seemed unconcerned as he folded his arms behind his head, stared off into space and hummed the "Jeopardy!" theme to himself.

"He's right! The doctor wasn't trying to help us." Riddler said with understandable anger. "And none of you should be helping him, even against the Bat. That drug could have killed us or left us mindless drones. We were just playthings to him."

This caused an eruption of arguments with several inmates siding with Riddler while others argued against him. Two-Face was looking frantically for a coin to flip so he could decide what to do, even searching the pockets of the unresponsive guards. Crane stayed where he was but he looked ready to march over and inject Batman himself. Riddler noticed that Joker was watching all of this but not saying anything. The clown was definitely up to something. He was never this quiet.

"Enough!!!" Dr. Fredericks shout cut them all off and brought their attention back to him. "There will be no more distractions. This experiment will go forward as planned." He picked up the needle and positioned it at Batman's arm. Everyone held their breath and leaned forward to see what would happen next...


	6. Part 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to the good people at DC Comics.

"At last the Grace in sight

I shout unto my feet

I offer them the whole of Heaven

The instant that we meet

They strive and yet delay

They perish

Do we die?

Or is this Death's Experiment

Reversed in victory?"

Emily Dickinson

As the needle touched Batman's bared arm, Joker got to his feet, knocking over the chair with a great deal of noise and drawing everyone's attention to himself. He strolled over to a wary Dr. Fredericks and flung an arm over the older man's shoulder, patting the man on the chest.

"Hold on there, Freddikins. You're forgetting something."

"And what would that be Joker?"

"Why the unmasking, of course." Joker left Fredericks standing there and went to put his arm around Batman instead while he kept his other hand in his pocket. The Dark Knight gritted his teeth at the nearness of his archenemy but kept silent wanting to see what would happen. "We need to see who ol' Bats is under that mask before you shoot him full of that stuff and he gets all gross and deformed."

"There will be time for that after I inject him. The drug takes several minutes before the effects begin." Fredericks sounded irritated but he was being careful. Joker was too unpredictable and there was no telling what he might do if he didn't get his way.

"Come on, it'll be more fun this way. I think my fellow psychos agree with me. Scarecrow, don't you want to see the fear in his eyes? And Eddie, I'm sure you'd like to know the answer to the only riddle you were never able to solve."

"Yessss. Take off his mask." Scarecrow was obviously salivating at the idea of seeing fear on Batman's unmasked face. The other inmates all chimed in with agreement except for Two-Face who was practically comatose with indecision after being presented with two questions he couldn't flip on. Eddie didn't answer but he wondered why Joker was dragging him into this. There was something else going on here but he couldn't figure out what Joker's angle was.

"Very well." Fredericks, seeing that he was outnumbered, put the syringe down and reached for Batman's mask. Fredericks flinched visibly as Joker suddenly caught the doctor's wrist in a tight grip.

"Uh-uh. You wouldn't want to deprive me of the privelage of doing it myself, would you Billy?" The psychiatrist shook his head and stepped back as Joker let go. The green-haired lunatic stepped towards Batman and the Dark Knight tensed, ready to try and stop Joker any way he could. Joker's hand grasped the edge of Batman's mask and tugged on it before stepping back to the confusion of everyone watching.

"Oopsie, almost forgot. Let's make this more interesting." Joker pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed them what he was holding. Fredericks gasped at the sight of the transmitter for Hatter's control chips, previously in his jacket, in the hands of the madman. Before he could protest, Joker pressed the button that turned the chips off and the guards began looking around in a befuddled manner.

The inmates realized what was going on at about the same time as the guards realized where they were. Fights broke out as some attacked the guards directly while others tried to flee. Scarecrow tried to head in Batman's direction only to be knocked over by a guard thrown by Killer Croc. The guard staggered back to his feet. Scarecrow did not. The door was wrenched open and everyone spilled out into the hallway leaving only Riddler, Joker, Scarecrow's unconscious form, and a frozen Dr. Fredericks in the room with Batman.

"Why???? Why would you do such a thing?!" Fredericks was torn between rage and bewilderment at Joker's actions. Riddler thought he knew but his attention was on a ring of keys, including the one for his cuffs, about ten feet away. It had been dropped by one of the guards during the fight. Batman was the only one who took note as he carefully worked his chair backwards towards the keys while trying not to attract the attention of Joker or the psychiatrist.

"I like Batsy exactly as he is...well, except for that pesky breathing problem of his but Dr. Joker will cure that real soon. Batman is mine to deal with, not yours or those losers." Joker snagged a stethoscope and hung it around his neck as he waved a hand in Riddler's direction. Nygma froze but Joker wasn't really paying attention to him and after a second, he continued his slow crawl towards the keys.

"No! I planned this so carefully. I won't let you ruin everything." The doctor grabbed one of the scalpels from the tray and charged Joker in a blind fury. His rush was halted when Joker neatly swept Fredericks feet out from under him with a well-placed kick and then smashed him over the head with the steel instrument tray. Fredericks lay limp, either dead or unconscious, as blood slowly trickled down the side of his face from the blow.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes, I was going to take your mask off before I took your head off." Joker picked up the dropped scalpel and advanced on Batman who was still glaring at him. "Don't worry Bats, this won't hurt a bit...til I jam this down your throat!"

As the scalpel began to slice through Batman's mask, Nygma reached his goal. He threw his weight to the side making the chair fall to the ground in the same way Joker had in order to get everyone's attention. His hand closed over the keys and he managed to get one cuff off and was starting on the second before Joker was suddenly straddling his chair.

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You aren't trying to steal my thunder are you? Why, I'm going to let my fellow Rogues in on Batman's identity just like I promised but only after I've had my fun with him. And for that, I'm going to need PRIVACY!" In a sudden manic rage, Joker grabbed Riddler by the arm and began dragging him to the door. Somehow, Riddler was able to get his other wrist free and pulled back from Joker's grasp. For a moment the two supervillians faced each other, and then Riddler straightened himself and dusted off an imaginary jacket.

"It's all right. I can tell when I'm not wanted. I can show myself out but first I have something to do." Riddler made his way over to Fredericks body.

He regarded the doctor for a moment and then gave a vicious kick to the man's side using the movement to block Joker's sight. Joker burst out into peals of laughter.

"You're a man after my own spleen, Riddler. Now get out." Riddler met Batman's eyes for a second and the Dark Knight gave him a barely perceptible nod. Nygma headed for the door and Joker went with him to make sure of his departure. After shoving Nygma through the door, Joker turned back to his prey.

Riddler heard the brief fight through the door. Mostly it was grunts and thuds interspersed with crazy laughs. When Batman opened the door, dragging an unconscious Joker as well as Scarecrow, Nygma crossed his arms over his chest and grinned smugly.

"Now we're even." Batman held up the ring of keys Nygma had tossed him unseen, allowing him to escape, and nodded.

"Yes, we're even. I'll escort you back to your cell."

Suddenly exhausted as the events of the last few days caught up with him, Riddler followed the man meekly back towards the cell area where the guards had most of the inmates subdued. At least, he had gotten some sort of revenge on Fredericks even if he had to go back to captivity. He let Batman lock him into his cell without protest. As the sounds of fighting died out with Batman's help in rounding up the inmates, Riddler lay down on his bunk and drifted off into a well-needed sleep.

One Week later...

Riddler studied the chess board, contemplating his next move while Jervis waited patiently. It had been a long week. Fredericks was in custody at Blackgate, still alive but with some sort of brain damage from Joker's blow. From his notes, Batman had discovered that Fredericks had been interested in perfecting his experimental serum so that he could produce exact physical and mental changes instead of the unpredictable ones it now caused. Presumably, he would have then used it on himself or maybe auctioned it off to criminals who wanted to become super-powered. The sometimes positive side-effects such as Wesker's recovery were incidental and unimportant to him for all that he'd claimed he wanted to help others.

The doctor had not been trusting enough to write down exactly how he'd made the drug or what it contained. Batman suspected that Fredericks brother, the chemist had helped develop it but the man was currently on the run and couldn't be found for questioning. Both Batman and the doctors at Arkham had had the serum analyzed but so far they hadn't found a way to reverse it's effects. Nygma was resigned to his current look now. There was nothing he could do about it so he may as well learn to live with it.(A/N)

He'd expected hostility from his fellow inmates over the way it appeared he'd been helping Batman but most of them didn't seem to care. Joker had just given him a long look before laughing again and then congratulated him on his amusing ploy. Scarecrow was giving him the cold shoulder but Nygma didn't feel like looking at Crane's new face anyway so that was okay. All in all, everything had worked out well and he still had his enhanced intellect.

Nygma moved his knight into position to check Tetch's queen when the alarm went off over the door and there were shouts as the guards ran to see what was going on. Killer Croc ripped the door off the hinges from out in the hall, scattering the guards.

"Jailbreak!!!" He bellowed and ran on down the hall. Some of the other inmates present ran to follow but Nygma hesitated. He'd promised Batman he would behave as part of their bargain and escaping probably wouldn't be in keeping with that promise. On the other hand, he hadn't exactly promised NOT to escape. He could behave just fine in Gotham with a lair full of riddle-crime, begotten loot. Crimes were a natural part of his behavior. He looked down at the board which Jervis had abandoned. Moving his queen, he knocked Tetch's king off the board. With his mind made up, he stepped jauntily as he joined his fellow inmates in their escape attempt and managed to make it out a door to the grounds. He looked at Gotham off in the distance.

"Riddle me this, when is a city like an apple? When it's ripe for the taking." Whistling to himself, he set off down the road towards Gotham.

Well, that's the end. Anyone notice the Simpsons reference in this final chapter? A gold star to who ever can point it out and name the episode it's from.

Thanks to everyone who left positive reviews. I really appreciate it.

A/N: In the "Batman Adventures," comic, Riddler does have his hair again and the Ventriloquist does relapse but that's in the future.


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